Undertow | Ekko x Reader

03

Ekko crouched in front of her, his movements slow and deliberate. She was small—too thin, too fragile-looking for this city's cruelty. Yet something about the scene unsettled him. It wasn't right. Carefully, he reached forward and tugged back her hood. 

His breath caught. 

For a moment, all he could do was stare.

Her features sharpened in the low light—shadows dancing over skin too clean to be just another stray, too hardened to be innocent. Ekko's heart dropped, then twisted into something colder. He knew her. 

Not her name. Not her story. 

But her reputation.

She was Silco's ghost. No one knew how she came or went. No one knew anything about her. 

And now she was here. 

Ekko stood slowly, keeping his expression cold even as his mind reeled. What the hell was she doing here?

"Tie her up," he said, his voice sharper than he intended. 

Scar's head snapped toward him, ears twitching. "What?" 

Ekko didn't turn, his gaze fixed on the girl as though she might vanish if he looked away. "You heard me. Tie her up." 

The others shifted uneasily, their hesitations thick in the air like smoke. Scar's claws flexed, and for a moment, Ekko thought he might argue. But then Scar nodded once, low and tight, and the others began moving. 

Ekko didn't watch. His thoughts were already running too fast, spiraling into something he couldn't pin down. Silco never let his shadows wander. She was here for a reason. 

And whether she liked it or not, Ekko was going to find out why.

The girl shifted before they even touched her.

Ekko saw it first—the slight tensing of her shoulders, the way her fingers curled against the stone floor like claws finding their grip. "Careful," he warned sharply, but it was too late. Two Firelights moved in, hands reaching out, and that was all she needed.

She exploded.

The small, lithe figure that had looked so frail a moment ago snapped upward with a raw, desperate force. She spun into one of the Firelights like a whip of muscle and momentum, her elbow catching him hard in the side. He stumbled back with a grunt. The other grabbed at her, but she twisted low, her boot sweeping out and sending his legs skidding out from under him. It wasn't clean—it wasn't precise—but it was violent.

Ekko surged forward, instincts crackling like a livewire. He watched her fight, noted flashes of what made her infamous: movements that should've been quick and lethal, the kind of thing he'd expect from someone with a name whispered in dread.

But something was wrong.

She was slower than she should've been. Sluggish. Like her body couldn't quite keep up with her intentions. The sharp grace he expected was dulled, every strike just a bit off. Her breaths were shallow, movements heavy.

She wasn't well.

Why?

Ekko didn't let himself hesitate. He ducked a wild swing—sloppy, uncoordinated—and caught her wrist midair. Her head snapped toward him, and he felt the resistance in her bones, the fight that hadn't dimmed despite whatever was dragging her down. Her strength surprised him, the way she wrenched against his grip, teeth bared in defiance like a cornered animal. But Ekko didn't let go. He pivoted sharply, hooking her other arm as she struck at him, then pulled her close enough to knock her off-balance.